I've lived in this neighborhood for years, but I still remember the first person I met when I moved here, and she was Linda pho had black wavy hair, big naughty eyes and a smile on her face all the time. I think she was about ten when I first met her.

She was very fond of trees and spent all her spare time collecting leaves and sticking them on a brochure. She remembered exactly where she had picked up a particular leaf, on which day and whether it was a sunny, windy or rainy day. Because I was interested in seeing what she had collected, I was her best friend or sister, Belle.

Later, Linda went to a boarding school outside the town. She would come home only during vacations. That is to say, we couldn't see each other as often as we used to. But we would make full use of every opportunity to visit the small forest near our home to collect her favorite leaves, and meanwhile, I could listen to her wonderful descriptions of the trees.

You must be wondering why I am talking about Linda. You see, something fantastic happened last week. I was standing on the balcony looking at the budding blossoms of the trees. As usual, I remembered Linda whom I had not seen for many years. Two years ago, I got some information from an old neighbor about Linda. She had settled down in France and had a daughter. I wondered whether she still stuck to her hobby of collecting leaves. I was so lost in thought that I did not hear that the doorbell rang at first. Then it rang again and again. Two short rings, one long ring and two short rings. Suddenly it dawned on me that it was how Linda used to ring the bell. I ran to the door.

I opened the door and found “Linda” standing there.

“Hello, Belle! I’m Amy, Linda's daughter”.

Jane and I were college roommates, and our first meet was far from friendly. I, an outgoing and passionate girl, found Jane, a quiet and shy person, difficult to get along with. Our conflicting lifestyles became a headache for both of us. Jane enjoyed early mornings at the library, absorbed in reading, while I preferred my sleep-ins. The sound of her early morning routine, from washing up to organizing the room, really got on my nerves. Jane would actively tidy up our shared space after study, while my desk remained in constant disorder.

One morning, I was unexpectedly awakened by a loud crash, only to discover that Jane had accidentally broken my favorite cup. Imagining all the disagreements, I was getting mad. I lost my temper and yelled a bunch of angry words at her without thinking. “What on earth, Jane! That was my favorite cup!” “I’m so sorry! I’ll clean it up.” “Clean it up? You’ve got to be kidding me!” After my outburst, Jane’s eyes welled up with tears. Silently, she began to clean up the broken pieces before leaving the room with her bag.

That night, as the bell signaling the end of study hours rang, I returned to the room only to find it empty. The roommate, who usually hangs around the room, was nowhere to be seen. It felt a little strange like something wasn’t right. I thought maybe she was still upset about our argument in the morning. I started worrying. Did what I said hurt her feelings? Is she avoiding me now? I kept thinking about our argument. It was then that I noticed the cleanliness Jane had left behind — a dorm so clean you could eat off the floor. I was filled with regret as I became aware of the consequences of my morning outburst. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. Feeling bad and wanting to fix things, I decided to go to find her.

I was about to walk towards the door when it suddenly opened.

With care, I opened the beautifully wrapped box.

Wrinkles of confusion rippled across Holly’s forehead as she unwrapped the gift from her best friend, Susan. “I…I thought you could use it for something.” Susan’s stammered (结巴的) explanation did nothing to help us understand why a twelve-by-eighteen-inch dark blue carpet rag was being presented as a birthday gift.

My heart went out to my daughter. The murmured “thanks” was barely hearable and she laid the piece of carpet on the kitchen counter, and the two girls headed outside to play with the family dogs.

The next morning, I carried a bag of kitchen rubbish outside. My heart hurt as I lifted the lid of the trash can and saw Susan’s carpet lying among the other discarded items. Hesitating only a moment, I reached in and took it from amid the junk. After a light brushing, I brought it into the house and put it in the hall closet.

Without mentioning Susan’s name for nearly three weeks, Holly came home with an invitation of Susan’s birthday. Although her voice carried a so-what attitude, I sensed she was pleased by the invitation. The following day, I drove Holly to Susan’s home. At the end of the road, we saw a tall woman wearing a shapeless sweater over navy blue pants standing in the doorway to greet us as we approached the small farmhouse. It must be Susan’s mom. “ Excuse the mess,” she apologized, holding the door open while we threaded our way through stuff that seemed to be everywhere. Then, Susan’s mom waved a hand toward the kitchen counter, which was barely visible through the mix of medicines. “This is my medicine cabinet, ” she explained.

Susan led us through the house. It seemed to be alive with four-legged fur kittens roaming underfoot and sprawling across the backs of the dirty sofa and chairs. She proudly showed us her room, which was decorated with used furnishings. After eating a simple homemade birthday cake, we offered our thanks for the visit and said goodbye.